Lifeless
by AwesomeMango7
Summary: Rick just couldn’t handle the death of his favorite grandson. So why not bring him back from the dead?
1. chapter 1

**AUTHORS NOTE: I do not own Rick and Morty. It'd be pretty cool if did though. Enjoy!**

Morty had died, and all there was to show for it was an empty, black, nothingness. A nothingness that wouldn't ever be filled. A nothingness that couldn't be sensed.

Well, it had been that way. For a while.

It felt kind of like waking up from a really long nap, but with the added physical feeling of pins and needles— like when your foot falls asleep and you're trying to wake it up. Except, it was all over your body.

Then, there was the more unpleasant feeling Morty got— he felt like he was suffocating. For a few moments he couldn't get himself to suck air into his burning lungs, but once he could, he pulled in a large gasp, his whole body violently shaking. He shot upright, his eyes snapping open as wide as saucers.

His hand darted up to his chest, bunching up the fabric of whatever-the-fuck shirt he happened to be wearing right now. "Wha-?" Was all he could manage out, his breathing rapid and heart pounding in his ears, slamming so violently against his rib cage that Morty though it might leap out of his chest. "How?! What?!" He knew that he should be dead. When it had happened, he knew it was too late save him. He was supposed to be fucking dead!

For a person who had been dead meer seconds ago, his sight was sure as hell fucking clear. It was dark, wherever he was, and there were dirt walls surrounding him. But that didn't surprise him as much as the sight of Rick standing above him, covered in dirt, looking exhausted and holding a glass vial above him.

"R-Rick?!" Morty's voice was shrill. Physically, Morty somehow felt amazing. Yet his mind was in a completely different place. "W-w-what the fuck?! Shouldn't I be dead?! What the— how the fuck am I here?!" The teen remembered dying as clear as day. How was he here?! How?!

Rick collapsed to his knees in front of Morty, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, and Morty gasped again, not expecting that to happen at all. It was a rare occasion for Rick to hug anyone. "Fuck you, Morty." The old man's voice wavered as he spoke. "F-Fuck you for doing this shit to me. Fuck! You!" Despite the harsh words, Rick only held on tighter, making it hard for Morty to breathe again.

Tears filled Morty's eyes, spilling over as he remembered himself dying over and over again inside his head. He remembered how it felt when he was bleeding to death on the cold hard ground while Rick had sobbed over him. He remembered looking up into his elders eyes, and seeing how hurt he was. He remembered the searing hot pain that radiated from his chest, and how at some point his whole body had become numb to it. He remembered how foggy everything had started to get, and how tired he was, and how hard he was struggling to just keep his damn eyes open, because Rick was pleading him to do so.

He remembered in his final moments, regret consumed him— he didn't want to die. He was going to miss so much in life. He was going to hurt Rick by leaving him like this. He didn't want to die, fuck, he didn't want to die! He wanted to live! He wanted to go on more adventures, he wanted to graduate highschool. He wanted to pick stupid fights with his sister, and help Rick with random shit in the garage. He didn't want to die—

But after that, everything was black.

Everything was black until now, with tears streaming down his face, and Rick's arms wrapped tightly around him.

 **TBC**


	2. Dig

Morty numbly helped Rick fill his grave back up, shoveling dirt back into the rectangular hole in the ground that led to his coffin. He was covered in dirt, and dressed in some fancy dress clothes that were torn and rotted, strips of fabric hanging off of it. Rick hadn't said much— only instructions, like "pick up that shovel, Morty," and "s-start f-bBbBUUuUrRrrp-filling the hole, Morty."

It was obvious after a while that Rick was quite drunk. It was obvious by the way he swayed as he shoveled dirt into the rectangular hole, and how his speech slurred despite how hard he tried to keep it steady. Morty hardly said anything either, partly because he was shocked, and partly because he didn't know what to say.

He had died.

He didn't know how long he'd been gone, but it had definitely been long enough for his family to set up a whole funeral for him. Speaking of, Morty paused in his shoveling, and turned to look at the marble headstone that was at the head of his grave. He'd noticed it when Rick was assisting him out of his own grave, but hadn't looked at it until now.

Carved in bold lettering was his name, the years he was born and died, and a small description.

Mortimer Smith

2002 - 2017

Loving son of Beth and Jerry Smith, brother of Summer Smith, Grandson of Rick Sanchez

Morty couldn't help the tears that built up in his eyes, but he didn't make a sound as they flowed down his cheeks.

He continued shoveling.


	3. We Travel Indefinitely

Rick was driving them somewhere in the ship, but Morty didn't know where. His hands were so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles had turned white, and he was hunched forward in his seat as he drove. It must have been an hour before Morty decided to say anything.

"W-where are we going, Rick?" Morty asked, causing Rick to jump. Not only was he not used to hearing Morty's voice, but he had been so focused on the endless space ahead of him that he had completely zoned out. Plus, he was so fucking wasted right now and his thoughts were a jumbled mess.

"I-I-I-I don't know, Morty." He slurred, not even sparing the boy a glance. "I-I don't know how to explain y-you coming back to life to your mom, Morty. So it's j-just Rick and Morty a-a-and their a-bBrRRRrpP-adventures... indefinitely."

Morty was giving him a worried look unlike he'd ever given to him before. "Rick..." He said, tone matching his expression.

"What?" Rick said, still refusing to look over. He had no clue where the hell they were going, and he had no idea how to handle this situation.

"H-how long has it been?" The words came out hushed, and timid.

" 'Bout a year..." The scientists muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more than before. He was starting to shake slightly.

There was silence for a moment as Morty mauled over that information.

A year.

He had been _dead_ for a whole fucking year. _A fucking year._ And somehow he was still here. He found it frustrating how... how _well_ he felt. He didn't feel sore, or in pain. Hell, he didn't even feel weak. Sure, he was kinda tired, and his stomach was bunching up into all kinds of knots, but that was purely from his anxiety. His body was perfectly intact, working like he hadn't even died in the first place.

But now even more questions were resurfacing. "I-is this a temporary thing?!" He felt himself become tense, more anxiety grabbing ahold of him. "Is—is—is this— how long does it last?! How did you do this, Rick?! _What_ did you do?! How?! _How?!_ How and _why?!"_ He was starting to hyperventilate at this point, he knew. A panic attack at the very edge, waiting to take over. He couldn't breathe, _he couldn't breathe!_ there wasn't enough room in the fucking spaceship! He couldn't breathe!

Rick looked over at Morty, seeing the absolute fear in his expression and he pulled the breaks, the spaceship floating still amid the seemingly infinite space around them. "H-Hey, hey— buddy, you gotta—gotta chill, alright?" He tried to comfort him, unbuckling his seat belt so he could reach out for the teen.

Morty backed away from him, flattening himself against the door. His heart was pounding again, threatening to leap from his chest. He felt like it was going to explode. _It was going to fucking explode, and he'd be dead again. He was going to fucking die_. "No no nonononononono." He echoed the word, his breathing going far to quick. He was becoming lightheaded, and he was starting to see tunnel vision. "IdontwanttodieRickIdontwanttodie." He began sobbing, fat wet tears flowing down his pale cheeks.

Rick crawled out of his seat and onto Morty's, grabbing him by his wrists and looking him in the eyes. "Morty, calm down." He said, trying, and _failing_ to sound stern. He unwillingly sounded panicked. "C'mon, breathe!" He said, sucking in one breath of his own as if to demonstrate.

Morty followed his action, sucking in a large breath. He held it until Rick exhaled, and he exhaled as well. His lungs were _burning_ as he protested the compulsive need to start hyperventilating again, but he refused it, focusing solely on Rick. The feeling of his hands wrapped around his wrists, the smell of alcohol wafting off of him. His sharp blue eyes filled with care and worry. The sound of his voice, telling him to calm down. It was the only thing in this moment that could keep him grounded, even though they were ironically in the middle of space, where gravity means nothing. But in that moment, Rick _was_ his gravity.

They both breathed together for a while as Rick encouraged him on, telling him that everything was fine. He told him that everything was going to be okay— that Morty was okay, they were okay. Nothing bad was going to happen.

Morty leaned forward, his head crashing into Rick's chest. He was still shaking and crying, but at least he wasn't hyperventilating anymore. Rick wrapped his arms around him, holding him closer to his chest. "Y-you're okay, Morty." He whispered softly into his brown curls. "You're alive."

The teen sobbed into him, holding on tightly to the labels of his lab coat.

 **TBC**


	4. Elegant Hues

**_HI, welcome back to anyone who may or may not be reading this. I hope you like what I have so far! Please enjoy this chapter!_**

Morty fell asleep, his body slouched against Rick's in the Spaceship. And the scientist just sat there, his arms wrapped around the small teen protectively. He had been drunk during the whole process of creating the resurrection substance— so drunk that, while he remembered making the decision to create the damn thing, he couldn't remember _how_ he made it. He didn't even record the process, or save any leftovers. Fuck, he doesn't even think he made any test subjects to make sure it wouldn't do something fucking crazy, like create _zombies!_

But usually drunk him somehow knew what he was doing when it came to stuff like this. He could perfect anything while in that inebriated state. He didn't quite understand it, but he guessed something about being so drunk that he started to black out enhanced his genius, the exact _opposite_ of what alcohol was _supposed_ to do to you. Maybe it just made him crazy enough to actually attempt that shit.

He knew something like this was bound to happen eventually, though. When Morty died, he came to realize that life went on. The seasons continued changing, new things were born, people still celebrated Holliday's, and laughed, and cried.

Everyone went on.

Rick wasn't moving on though. He remained as still as a stature while everyone else moved on without him. Even Beth started to recover, despite the dread and agony that she harbored each and every day due to his death. Summer still texted on her phone, and hung out with her friends. She even started looking for collages.

Fuck, even that idiot Jerry started to move on again— hell, he even managed to get a stable job, too!

And, Goddamnit, did Rick try to move on as well. He tried so fucking hard. But Morty had been the only person he cared about— the only fucking person that he could truly and honestly trust. He was so alone without him, and he couldn't even fathom replacing him. Getting a new Morty sounded like a disgusting idea. No other Morty would ever be like _his_ Morty. And his Morty was dead...

And every day he grieved for him just as badly as he did the day he released his final breath. He couldn't cry anymore after the first week, but he felt the pain just as intensely. He hadn't cried that entire year...

... but now, looking down at the teenager in his arms, alive and _real,_ he suddenly felt something wet trail down the curve of his cheek. It left him confused for a moment, wondering what the hell was happing to him, but as his eyes started to grow blurry, he realized he was _crying._

His emotions became a clusterfuck of confusion: he felt so _relieved_ but so fucking sad as well. Rick was so terrified of losing him again, so terrified that he couldn't control his own emotions.

His tears trailed down his cheeks and dripped down into Morty's dirt-caked brown hair. He pulled the teen closer to himself as he began to cry harder. His whole body was shaking violently, so violently that it actually woke Morty up.

The teen blinked tiredly up at him before a flash of panic swept across his eyes at the sight of tears running down his grandfather's face. "Oh Geez— Rick, what's wrong?!" He pushed himself up, and grabbed Rick's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Morty." Rick sobbed. "I'm so sorry." Then old man looked absolutely broken, and Morty didn't know what to do. He'd never seen Rick like this... he was _crying._ He didn't even know Rick was capable of crying.

"R-Rick..." He rapped his arms around him again, pulling him close. He half expected to be pushed away, but instead, Rick buried his face into the crook of his neck as he cried, willingly excepting the hug. "It's o-okay, Rick. Please stop crying. Everything's okay."

The roles had been reversed. It seemed that both of them had some bottled up emotions. What had Rick been doing while Morty had been dead?

He looked up, out of the glass dome that separated them from endless space. The lights in the spaceship had dimmed after a while due it being on autopilot rather than actually being driven by either of them.

Space had never looked so beautiful before.

"Rick..." He said, his stutter absent and awe laced in his voice. "Look up."

The scientist did as told and was met with the sight of a nebula somewhere high above the spaceship.

The colors mixed together like sand, painting watercolors against the black background, a contrast that was eye-candy to both of them. The stars made everything look empty and full at the same time.

Violets, blues, pinks, and purples all mixed up together in wonderful wisps and swirls. They looked like fluffy, fluid clouds, entwined with whirlpools and elegant hues.

It made Rick cry harder, but they started to become tears of joy, and he pulled Morty closer to him.

He was back. Morty was back, here in the spaceship, looking at this beautiful sight with him. His best companion; his best friend; his grandson; his little buddy; his accomplice; was here. With him. They were together, and Rick wasn't ever going to let him go again.

A sight like this was useless without Morty to see it with him.

 **TBC**


End file.
